


Last Night

by upquarkAO3



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky is a talker, Happy Ending, I mean sort of; we are talking Pre-WW2 here, M/M, Mild Angst, Oblivious!Steve, Pining, Pre-War, RST, UST, what a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upquarkAO3/pseuds/upquarkAO3
Summary: Steve rolled his neck and took a slow breath. He might’ve always wished for bigger and better things, true. Maybe against most odds, yeah, whatever. Sickly boys didn’t get strong on stubbornness and prayers didn’t cure TB for single mothers. But Bucky?Steve had always just been happy to have proximity to that shine.Didn’t make it any easier to lose it though.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> Like everyone else, I have a jagillion things happening IRL and a whole bunch of other stuff I *should* be working on for play. This story happened anyway.

The evening went exactly like he’d thought, until it didn’t.

Same old, same old. Double dates; or rather **Bucky’s** date and a ‘charming’ friend who threw Steve to the wolves first chance she got. Wasn’t the first time it had happened, but it always rankled. Seemed basic civility was a dying art, which is why Steve spent exactly zero mental currency on Bucky’s estimation of his winning odds with women in wartime NYC. So far, none of them had wanted the guy who was a far sight from par despite Bucky’s best efforts. Didn’t even bother being polite, this one. Made it easy to slip away to try his luck again, although not with the fairer sex; joining the Army remained his object of pursuit, and so far he’d been as lucky with that as he had with the ladies. Maybe fifth time was the charm?

After all, what did he have to lose now?

But of course it was Bucky that had missed him and came looking. Again. Any girl who would sneer at a politely offered snack sure wasn’t gonna make a fuss when _‘bucky’s buddy; that little stevie rogers’_ up and wandered off.

Didn’t miss him enough to not go back out with the girls instead of spending his last night with his best friend, though. And it wasn’t like Steve didn’t understand, though not empirically. But it was still irksome. Who knew what would happen once Bucky shipped out? Despite his irritation Steve had felt a familiar frost clench his heart as he walked the last blocks back to their apartment, the warmth of Dr. Erskine’s words already fading under the chill of anticipatory fear.

And Bucky? Off dancing his own fears away, surely. Steve snorted, _‘or probably more than dancing, and probably more than once’_ under his breath. Not that Steve should blame him; Buck probably wouldn’t be anywhere he could find that soft comfort for quite a long time, but…it was his _last night_. And he was essentially spending it with _strangers_. Getting inside someone’s underthings didn’t mean you _knew_ them.

Some best friend. Thanks, pal.

So it had been easier (and exciting!) to get caught up in all the signing and swearing in and schedule acquisition and paperwork that he couldn’t even tell a soul about anyway. Afterwards, with the varnish of his own new adventures dulling slightly with each lonely step, Steve arrived home and put a cap on his evening by slamming the apartment door. He didn’t indulge in unfounded petulance very often, but there was no one to scold or chide him (and wouldn’t be – not anymore) so inanimate objects took the brunt of his frustrations. The brass key was palm-smacked onto the counter. Oft-mended shoes were shoved off and kicked carelessly towards the radiator. His jacket, tie, button-down and belt were strewn on the floor Hansel-and-Gretel style whilst he stormed off towards the bedroom.

**Their** bedroom.

Soon to be his. Solely his. Alone.

Since this was Bucky’s last night. Like he’s said. For months. Like Steve had been expecting _(for years)._ Steve sat down hard enough on his own bed to make it creak and stared across the narrow room at Bucky’s. The thin pillow was fluffed and the sheets were creaseless and pin-tight under the small square of light from the window _(‘…a ‘course I’m takin this side of the room, Steve – this drafty glasstrap’ll killya faster than those fights you always go lookin’ for…)_. Like he was already barracks-ready.

Already gone in his own mind.

Steve sighed, grinding his fists next to his hips on his own untidy blankets.

Because no matter **why** Bucky was leaving why would someone like him be allowed to keep someone like HIM?

The inside of his cheek tasted of copper, and Steve realized he’d been biting it as he was thinking.

If it hadn’t been war, it would have likely been a better job, then a wife and a family of Bucky’s own…and all Steve could hope for in that scenario would be a place at their table for special occasions. Sunday dinners. Be a godfather, maybe. He wasn’t a fool – growing up just him and Sarah he knew all too well how fast ‘unconventional families’ got dusted to the social periphery. Even unintentionally.

Especially people like him who would probably wear out sooner than most.

Which is why a big part of Steve was thrilled beyond measure that he finally had something to work for instead of just hope. This Erskine guy offering the first real shot at... **something**.

Steve rolled his neck and took a slow breath. He might’ve always wished for bigger and better things, true. Maybe against most odds, yeah, whatever. Sickly boys didn’t get strong on stubbornness and prayers didn’t cure TB for single mothers. But Bucky?

Steve had always just been happy to have proximity to that shine.

Didn’t make it any easier to lose it though.

Not now.

_(not ever?)_

For time out of mind Bucky had been a constant in his life, through everything. Playing mother-hen worse than his own Ma until Steve got mad, but he never did. Laughing, teasing, joking…taking care of everyone and doing it with such grace that it was difficult to see the mortar within the stones until it was disappearing. Until Steve felt himself falling apart even at the thought of losing Bucky now that it was imminent. Like he’d already lost everyone else.

He ran a knobby wrist across one eye and smiled a watery smile despite himself.

Because oh, how Steve had railed against him sometimes. The rambunctious care. The watchful eye. It was too easy to push against something you knew would never give way until it was fading from you.

Steve planted his bony elbows on his bonier knees and ground his brow on the heels of his hands. His stomach was knotted with Gordian ice and his heart – his weak, traitorous heart – steady for once as it relentlessly tapped down the seconds until Bucky was gone. Maybe forever? And still…

And still, what?

Something missing before he’d even left…what was it? What more could Steve possibly want from the best friend – only friend – he had.

What?

Steve sighed, irritable at himself on top of everything else because face it, he didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he didn’t have it yet.

Maybe he wanted to try that forbidden window? He rose quickly, taking the three short steps across to fold himself into a kneel on Bucky’s tidy bed. The old wood of the window frame was rough against his shoulder with only an undershirt on, so Steve reached back to grab Bucky’s pillow. He wedged it into the sill, resting his temple against the glass and his cheek on the worn cotton. He stared blankly into his own ghostly reflection for awhile, mind and heart full of distracting thoughts…so much so that he’d barely noticed when he’d dipped his chin to better catch Bucky’s scent from the cloth. Cigarettes and sandalwood, Brylcreem and worry…Steve flinched like he’d been stung; this was maudlin even for his current mood. He flung the sad little pillow away, choosing comfort in the familiar anger breaching him instead.

Steve hadn’t even bothered turning on their anemic overhead light bulb, so laying back and fooling himself that he’d sleep was easy enough. He laced his fingers behind his head, crossed his ankles and glared at the reflection of life his city _(their city)_ was throwing upon the ceiling. And try as he might, he could not keep at bay his biggest fear: no matter what his own stint with Dr. Erskine and the Army might bring, he was going to lose Bucky. Didn’t know when, or how. But it was coming. Steve could feel the impending juggernaut of it echoing into the fragile marrow of his bones.

Aggravated with himself for his fears, he was so tired and overwrought that he barely noticed when his worries became disturbed dreams.

~

He woke abruptly. A sound, or…an absence where a sound had just been. Sitting up quickly and momentarily disoriented because he wasn’t on his own side of the room, Steve rubbed his eyes and listened.

Another sound; unique in the city’s night because it was close. A scrape. A sigh?

Steve headed back down their short hallway to investigate, and saw Bucky sitting cross-ways on a chair, slouched over their kitchen countertop with his elbows flanked by a half-empty liquor bottle and a smudged glass.

‘Buck?’ Steve had to ask twice, before Bucky turned at the sound of his name. He was looking at Steve oddly, his eyes glassed over with either the drink or his imminent departure.

Maybe both?

“Hey, are you allr-”

“Saw you in my bed, Steve,” he interrupted. Bucky’s voice had an edgy, almost predatory quality to it that Steve couldn’t quite pinpoint. It matched the unfamiliar tilt to his head and gleam in his eye. “Too little too late though, huh.” It should have been a question, but wasn’t. Not like Steve understood it anyhow.

Still, it sounded somewhat accusatory, so Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he asked, “What do you mean, Buck? Not like I expected you back here.”

The sound that barked out of Bucky’s throat could only be called a laugh in the loosest of terms. He reached for the bottle, not bothering with the glass this time. After a few long swallows he wiped his mouth and grinned but the expression was anything but pleasant. “That so? Well, thanks much for the odds on my life. Nice to know we’re on the same page, I guess.”

Steve blanched, and the fearful knot of ice in his gut from earlier lurched over. There was no way **_no_** **_way_** that Steve would let Bucky leave knowing he had doubts about his return.

“Bucky, what are you _talking_ about? I meant you were out with one of the best-looking girls in the neighborhood - with the worst reputation. AND her cousin. I didn’t think you’d be coming back until dawn! Wouldn’t be the first time you stayed out cattin’.”

Bucky sighed, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “No, it wouldn’t. Not tonight, though.”

“No?” Steve wasn’t certain why he was relieved and decided not to examine the unexpected feeling too closely.

“No.” Steve watched Bucky’s Adam’s apple bob as he took a few more swallows. “Saw our dates home like the gentleman I **can** be, and then took a walk.”

Steve glanced at Sarah’s old clock on the window sill. “A walk,” he said flatly. “Until 2 in the morning?”

The low growl in Bucky’s voice was unfamiliar, too. “Apparently yes, Steve. **Jesus H**. I had a few things on my mind to sort out: that okay with you, pal? Do I need your goddamned permission to have some time to myself before I can’t even take a piss without orders? Christ.” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, leaving his fingers stuck through the strands as he leaned an elbow on the counter. He’d closed his eyes in annoyance when speaking and kept them that way now.

Steve had never seen him look so tired. Not ever. Cautious, he pulled up his own chair and shuffled closer, concerned that even the rough scrape on their linoleum didn’t make Bucky open his eyes.

“Bucky?”

Nothing.

Steve sat down quietly for a second before reaching out a hand to the back of Bucky’s neck and giving him a little shake. “C’mon, Buck. You okay?”

It was a stupid question and they both knew it, so Steve wasn’t surprised when Bucky didn’t bother to answer. But it felt good to have his palm on Bucky’s warm skin. It meant he was real. And still here. They balanced there a moment more in this strange limbo of hand on head on hand.

“I’m sorry Bucky,” Steve finally whispered as he pulled back.

Bucky huffed, planted his other elbow on the table and crumpled down into his folded arms. “How come you’re sorry? The sound of his voice was muted slightly by the uniform that would take him away. “What’d ya go and do now?”

Truth time.

“Nothin’. I just can’t help you…with whatever, and you’ve always helped me. Even when I got mad about it.”

“You ALWAYS got mad about it. Punk.” Even muffled, the words were a little harsh but to Steve’s relief, Bucky’s voice had gone soft.

So he replied in the same light tone. “Yeah well, takes a real jerk to keep pitching his nose in where it ain’t wanted, don’t it?”

Oops.

There was a leaden beat of time before Bucky’s tone quickly flipped back to caustic. “Yes, that’s right. Trying to keep your skinny butt out of trouble all these years was just my way of gettin’ under your skin, Rogers. Wasn’t tryin’ to save your hide like I promised both your ma AND mine. Not trying to keep you breathin’ one more winter because I didn’t have nothin’ better to do. Oh no – it was all for spite; so glad you noticed. Noticed **something** other than your own temper at least. Well, don’t worry – you can do for yourself now; apparently just like you always wanted.”

Steve recoiled, stung silent at the unfamiliar bitterness staining his friend’s words.

Bucky had abruptly risen and pushed back from the counter as he spoke, chair legs rasping against the floor before it clattered to the ground. He kicked it away as he strode over to their kitchen sink; his back to Steve and tipped the bottle up to his mouth again. But before he drank any more he whipped his hand down, glass shattering and alcohol splashing up against the chipped enamel.

Steve was shocked. With shoulders tight and brows lowering like thunderclouds, Bucky turned around without even glancing his way.

“Leave it; I’ll get this before I go. Or don’t. See how you like cleaning up after me for once.”

Bucky said this last under his breath as he stalked into their hallway. Steve heard their closet door wrench open…and then nothing. Bucky’s footlocker had been packed for days, just awaiting shipping orders so Steve knew he didn’t have anything left to do, but…for the first time in his life he felt wary of his best friend. Not afraid, not exactly, but…Steve could feel a rawness to him that was alien and unfamiliar and he wanted to be careful with that.

He stood, righted the fallen chair and pushed it together with his own under the counter’s edge. Taking a few minutes he cleaned the sink quietly, giving Bucky time before he approached the bedroom. He found Bucky standing there with hands braced against the doorframe of their closet, looking down at his footlocker inside. His cap rested on the top shelf and the uniform jacket and tie were hanging neatly from the bar below. Probably more from long habit than anything else he’d also picked up the items of clothing Steve had tossed aside in annoyance earlier. These were folded tidily and resting next to Bucky’s shaving kit on one corner of the narrow dresser between their beds; the little gesture made Steve’s heart ache.

Without moving, Bucky spoke as soon as he heard Steve’s steps come closer. “I’m sorry; I don’t know…I just feel wrong. Something’s **wrong** and I can’t…”

Truth time. Again.

“I know, Buck…something feels off to me, too. And it ain’t just you leavin’ – it’s not. Can’t put it into proper words but…I feel it, too.”

Bucky turned his face slowly towards his friend, almond eyes wide and solemn. For a moment he didn’t speak. When he did, his voice was a strained whisper. “Thanks.”

“What on earth for?!” Steve asked incredulously. Some comfort he was!

“For not lyin’ to me. For lettin’ me feel like…maybe I ain’t losing my mind after all. That this could be,” here Bucky waved a hand aimlessly, indicating everything. “…bad. For me.”

“Bucky. Jesus.”

He shrugged as he turned away, broad shoulders gliding easily under the material of his shirt as he began unfastening buttons. Steve paused, trapped in thought. Bucky had always been strong; wearing easy capability like some people wore dress clothes. But now, looking closer, really seeing him, Steve couldn’t miss the downward cast to his frame, the turning-in of his expression…and no matter how off-kilter he felt, Steve could not bear him like this…like he’d already accepted some inevitable outcome. Steve reached a tentative hand out to that strong back and felt the tremble under the fabric that Bucky never showed anyone.

What? Was he frightened? He never -

But before the thought fully solidified in Steve’s mind Bucky had flinched like the touch bit. He wheeled around, pressing his back to the open closet door. With dark head down and fists clenched at his sides Steve could practically _feel_ him vibrating even from several feet away.

“No, hey. No…Buck? Bucky?”

Once again, Bucky’s voice was that unfamiliar low growl. “What are you doing, Steve.” As before, not even a question, tone flatter that the look he was giving the floorboards.

“I don’t know, I..”

Bucky snorted derisively and Steve was fairly certain he heard, _‘yeah, no kiddin’_ ”.

Annoyed and confused Steve blurted out, “I just want to help, Bucky. You look like you…oh I don’t know…need help. Need **somethin** ’.”

With that, Bucky slowly began to lift his chin. His eyes followed, and the look he gave Steve was the clearest version yet of that something different…not dangerous…not exactly - but alien…that Steve had sensed from him earlier.

Bucky took only one step toward Steve, but the sharp gaze and the near predatory stance of his body had Steve reflexively backing up like he’d never from anything or anyone in his life.

Never Bucky. Especially never Bucky.

“What do you think **you** know about what _I_ need, huh?”

“What?”

Bucky laughed, but the sound was tired and worn. “Starry-eyed oblivious fella with his head in the clouds and morals even higher. No-one can live up to that. Not even you but you’ll kill yourself tryin’, you stubborn punk. No hope for some sorry sucker like me with that to compete against.”

“ **What**?!” Steve repeated, exasperated. “Bucky, what are you even _talking_ about?”

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes and turning away as he drew himself in. Making himself small. Tame again. “Nothing. Nothing you’d ever understand, Steve. Much as part o’ me always hoped for different. Horrible, huh? Some friend I am.”

Steve’s head was reeling as Bucky went to sit on the end of his bed. With his head down, shoulders slumped and hands clasped between his knees he looked the most unlike himself Steve could ever remember: lost. Defeated.

And there was no way Steve could let his best friend…his ONLY friend…leave for war like this. Not like this.

So he sat down catty-corner on the bed next to him, and dropped a hand between Bucky’s shoulder blades. The tremble was gone. It felt like **Bucky** was gone, for all the reaction he gave. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Steve just rubbing tiny circles on his back. Trying to do something, anything to make Bucky feel better. And for the first time in his life he didn’t trust his words, so also for the first time in his life, he just kept his yap shut and stayed close.

After a few minutes, Bucky had some words of his own. Frail, fragile ones. “I’m scared.”

Okay. He was making sense. This Steve could work with – Bucky had always been the pragmatic one out of the two of them. “I hear you, Bucky. I do. Bet lotsa guys shipping out feel exactly the same way you do right now.”

Bucky chuckled, but it was low and sad and shrewd. “Doubt that, actually.”

Steve drew himself up a bit, furrow deepening in his brow. “What do you mean? Being scared of war is normal, Bucky. You’d be wrong in the head not to be.”

“Oh, I’m wrong in the head all right. But that ain’t it.”

“What?”

The answer was rudely thrown back, the tone spiteful and barbed. “Gotta quit repeating yourself. Gonna worry about your head next, punk.”

Steve straightened and crossed his arms in irritation at his previously-steadfast friend’s emotional whiplash this evening. “What the hell, Buck?”

Bucky was quiet for a moment before his raspy whisper barely crossed the short distance between them. _‘okay then, steve. ask me what I’m scared of.’_

Glaring at the back of Bucky’s neck, Steve took a breath before speaking, centering himself. He kept his voice low and steady despite his own confusion, sensing Bucky needed some stability for whatever he was trying to get off his chest.

And so he asked. But the soft answer brought more confusion rather than clarity.

_‘Ain’t never told no-one that I’m scared before. Ain’t never been – not really and I don’t mean that arrogant. But I am, now. Scared. Scared of losing you. Kinda have been; Cadillac spirit in a jalopy body like you got. But really losing you now. Before you know’._

“Know **what** , Bucky? What are you trying to say? Spit it out already. It’s just me. Just me and you, here. I can keep your secrets.”

He was quiet for a while, breathing uneven but Steve waited him out, feeling Bucky making himself ready to say whatever he was struggling with.

Finally it came.

“I love you, Steve.”

Steve was even more perplexed, if that were possible. It wasn’t something he’d ever said aloud to anyone but his mother, but it was something he always thought was understood. “What’s wrong with you? I know that. And me for you – always been that way. You’re my best friend, Buck.”

_“ **No!**_ **”** The word was almost a sob.

“What?! Yes, you are, stupid jerk. And I’m yours. ‘Till the end of the line, apart or not, right?” The earlier ice chunk in Steve’s belly exploded into his gut. “Right?” he asked again softly. Oh…maybe he’d misunderstood after all. Bucky was making a clean break…from him. Starting his new life unfettered. Just like his worst childhood fears come to life when he could not understand why rough-and-tumble Bucky had chosen the frailest kid in the neighborhood to make friends with.

Bucky was just shaking his head back and forth silently, and Steve’s throat closed. He began to get up off the bed, to move, to get away…go anywhere else on his spindly turned-to-dishwater bones, but before he could, Bucky spun like a top to drop to his knees in front and fling his arms around Steve’s waist.

Steve froze, thin arms outstretched like anemic wings. Bucky was speaking now, low and fast and muffled by the thin cloth and Steve’s shattering soul.

“No, no…got it wrong…just like me. ‘Course you’re my best friend; a’course you are. Always have been from the first beat-down, snotted-up defiant sight a’ya. But…”

Steve took a slow breath, hands fluttering down through Bucky’s words.

Bucky’s voice, if anything was even softer and Steve could feel his hot breath and hotter tears soaking through the T shirt. “I’m just, I’m not…oh hell I’m fuckin’ it all up. Just like I am.”

Steve took another slow breath and rested a careful hand on the back of Bucky’s neck. Bucky shuddered and pulled away just enough to look up. His hair was mussed, cheeks pink and tear-streaked, eyes wide and red-rimmed and even confused as he was, Steve had never in his life more wanted to save Bucky pain _just this once_ like he’d been saved time and again.

After a minute Bucky sat back on his heels, saying, “Ask me again why I’m scared, Steve.”

Steve paused warily but Bucky’s voice and gaze were steady now. Resolved.

“I said, ‘ask me’…can’t go without it. And I do hafta go, so.”

So Steve looked at him and asked.

And the answer stunned him.

“You are my best friend. And I do love you. But…I am **in love** with you, and have been since before I knew what that even meant. And I know it’s not the regular way of things and…I don’t expect ya to do nothin’…I just,” Here he swallowed and Steve’s own throat ached watching, “…I just wanted you to know before I went. What you mean to me. In case I didn’t come back. That’s all.”

Steve blinked. A few times. In shock yes, but not knowing exactly what else for, no. And like he’d done since seemed-like-forever, he looked down at his touchstone to center himself.

Bucky.

Steady, even-minded Bucky.

Sweet, strong Bucky, struggling so hard.

So afraid of how Steve might react, apparently. Like a lifetime of friendship would disappear as fast as he would in a few hours’ time.

It crushed his heart.

He reached out gently, fingertips brushing some of the tangles off his best friend’s forehead. Bucky closed his eyes in relief, slumping down to rest his head on Steve’s knee. He might not know what was coming next _(nor Steve, either),_ but at least it would not be Steve’s patented blend of righteous rage.

Steve kept at it for a few minutes, smoothing the thick hair back and giving Bucky a chance to regroup while he attempted to parse out the completely unexpected confession. What to say to something like this?

Finally, he had it.

“PollyAnn McNamara AND her rude cousin would be SO MAD to hear what you just said. They’ve been chasing you for **years**. I almost wanna go tell ‘em just to see the look on their smug faces.”

There was a beat as Bucky’s eyes popped wide open and then he and Steve fell over each other in gales of laughter.

Finally Bucky sat back on the floor, one hand over his chest and the other scrubbing at his eyes. “Oh god - I’m breathless, buddy. This must be what it feels like when you got one of your asthma attacks going. Whoo. Ouch.” He thumped his chest weakly a few times, still giggling.

Catching his own breath, Steve leaned forward to slap at Bucky’s shoulder. “Something like, shuddup.”

They gathered themselves together, the occasional chuckle or snort still percolating up out of the break in tension.

But honesty had always been a part of them too so when Steve said solemnly that the revelation was ‘kind of messing with him’, Bucky replied, “Yeah well, it’s been messing me up pretty good too, so. But now you know. And that makes everything okay.”

Steve narrowed his eyes just as little at Bucky. “It makes everything okay for you, Buck? Everything?”

Bucky smiled, and while small it wasn’t sad, or hopeless or even expectant. “Enough,” he said.

Steve leaned back on the bed, weight on the heels of his hands and cocked his head to the side as he looked at his friend. His Bucky.

“I don’t get it. All these years, and all those girls, Buck…” he started.

“Yeah? So? Girls are **fantastic**. Raised with a bunch too, remember?”

Steve just pursed his lip and cocked his head to the other side, waiting.

Bucky sat back a little and ran his hands over his face before speaking. “If you’re looking for a tidy explanation, I ain’t got one. I don’t know how it happened, Steve. We’ve been ‘us’ since way before ‘all this’,” he said, waving both hands around before bringing them both close to his heart. Then he dropped them into his lap along with his gaze.

After a breath he looked up at Steve, eyes earnest and wide.

“And I DO like the ladies; all soft and sweet and warm and smell so nice; lord knows you’re rarely any of those.” Bucky grinned his quick sly-cat grin as Steve leaned over and attempted to box his ears. He slapped Steve’s hands back and chuckled before he paused, glancing away quickly and then back before speaking. “But you’ve always been the one that tugs at me most, since we were little. Ornery cuss that you are I didn’t understand it. But it didn’t change, Steve…and I thought it would but it didn’t…and then I started having these dreams and thoughts and I couldn’t tell anyone, ‘specially you...and we never had secrets, you and I. So…was feeling poorly about that, too.” Bucky rubbed at his mouth quickly, looking away again.

Steve patted his shoulder in a ‘keep going; I’m listening gesture’. And after a few moments, Bucky did.

“And it’s just part of me now. Like you’ve always been. And I wanted you to know…I just didn’t know how to say it. Until I HAD to ‘cause I was leaving. And I’m sorry…not for feeling it, never, but sorry for telling you something you never wanted to hear, that you hadn’t asked for - OH!”

Steve had leaned forward and grabbed ahold of Bucky’s strong jaws with each hand and pressed a hard, rough kiss to his forehead. He heard Bucky gasp and felt him go pliant under his hands. And it lit him up like nothing he’d ever expected, like he hadn’t expected any of this…

…this…

…was **this** what he’d been lacking? What he wanted?

One way to find out and Steven Grant Rogers might have been weak in body but had never been in spirit so…

He kept his eyes closed tight and pressed another fierce kiss to Bucky’s forehead before whispering, _‘…you’re my best friend, and I love you too, I do. I…”_

But that was as far as he got because, **_oh God_** , Bucky had come back to himself and reared up between Steve’s legs. His hands and mouth were suddenly everywhere, hot, seeking, barely settling before moving again.

Steve felt like he’d been enveloped within a swarm of stinging butterflies; each kiss and touch sweet and fleeting but leaving fire in its wake. And Bucky’s voice; that different voice…low and gravelly, begging and powerful all at once. Whispering, _‘can I’_ and _‘oh please’_ and _‘let me’_ and _‘so good’_.

Steve had forgotten how Bucky could run his mouth.

By the time _‘darlin’_ and _‘sugar’_ and _‘honey’_ and _‘sweetheart’_ were in the mix Steve didn’t know whether he wanted to scream from long-ignored physical frustration or indignance at all the pet names.

“Bucky, stop!”

Instantly all the warmth was gone as Bucky hovered in front of him. Still raised up on his knees between Steve’s but trembling again with hands held up and away from Steve’s body. His soft mouth was pink and slick with the kisses he’d given and his eyes were dark like storms. But Steve saw the fear and tears building behind the blue and he reached out to stop Bucky before he could scramble away.

He pulled their foreheads together, thumbs rubbing the soft hairs at Bucky’s nape.

“Jus’ wait…just give me a second to catch up here. Gonna kill a guy with yourself, geez.”

He more felt than heard Bucky huff a laugh, his hands settling to rest on Steve’s kneecaps.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Steve palmed the back of Bucky’s head before getting a good handful of the thick hair and pulling a little. He heard Bucky hum low in his throat and that made Steve smile. “Like that, huh?”

“Sure. It’s you. I’ll like anything from you.”

And it was an answer so honest, so sweet and disarming – just like Bucky himself – that it made the falling guards around Steve’s heart melt away completely.

“Aw, Buck.”

“Stevie. Now you stop it.”

And yep, there it was. The childhood nickname all grown up now, said that way. Delivered from that intimate quirked-corner grin Steve never in a million years expected to see directed at himself. That plus the sassy, low tone Steve had sometimes overheard Bucky using with his dates if things were going well sent a thrill up his spine. “Don’t you go getting sappy on me now, darlin’. You’re more spit and vinegar than honey and I like you that way. Sharp and sweet you are, but still gonna melt on my tongue. That okay? You want that? Want me?”

Steve nodded slowly, then almost had to shield his eyes from Bucky’s blinding grin. He put his hands up to his face anyway, not sure if he was embarrassed or overwhelmed or both. And more.

“I got you, darlin’. C’mon. C’mere to me.”

Steve barely had a chance to answer as Bucky stood quickly, reaching under Steve’s arms to bring him up as well before tossing them both down on the narrow bed facing the same direction. Generally, one of the things he had always liked about Bucky that he was easy with affection without being overly gentle about it unless Steve was ill. They were both sons brought up by strong women and surrounded by Bucky’s baby sisters so being tactile was par for how they were raised; always had been. Although they were sweet with the girls and rougher with each other. A pat on the neck, teasing slaps on shoulders. Quick one-armed hugs that nearly took Steve off his feet, jostling and rambunctious. All the typical boyish palling around sort of stuff they apparently never outgrew with each other.

But this was different. Much different. Feeling Bucky literally manhandle him around like a rag doll had Steve’s nerves sizzling faster than fire spreading through tenements. And when Bucky pressed his entire body around Steve’s own, it lit him up brighter than his birthday fireworks.

“Buck, ah…I,”

“Got you; finally got you right where I’ve wanted you. With me. Gonna make you feel so good, promise, just…”

And then it all happened so fast. Warm hands with rough callouses reaching under his T shirt to brush his chest and belly. That sassy mouth laving kisses and bites all over his neck and shoulders, murmuring sweet nonsense into his skin along with each little bruise. Like Bucky was trying to leave part of himself with Steve, pressing intent into each word and touch left behind on body and heart.

Being the focus of this much unexpected attention was almost overwhelming; even more so when Bucky clasped both hands around Steve’s shoulders and **_pulled_** him deep into the cradle of his body.

Electricity sparked in his gut, raced up his spine and Steve saw stars.

Strong muscle surrounded him, but rather than feeling small he felt protected. Cherished. And powerful too, if the rigid heat against his backside was any tell. Just about every girl in the neighborhood wanted to be on Bucky’ arm, and here he was turning himself inside out for Steve.

And then Bucky’s pretty words began to turn dirty.

“Such a sweet little ass you got…sleek whip of a body…my stevie, all barbed wire and smart mouth. _yeah, oh_ …good lord what you’re doin’ to me… ** _jesus_. **Making me crazy…”

Steve felt his cheeks burning, and wasn’t sure with what. Old awkwardness? New craving?

And still with the mouth! Steve doubted Bucky even realized he was talking anymore.

_‘wanna touch you, want to so bad...that okay? Not too much…just enough, just enough to make you feel good, tell me I can, wanna make you feel like I do holding you…’_

“Yeah. Yeah I want that.”

And the words were barely free of Steve before the rest of his breath punched out right after. Bucky had finally gone silent, but surged forward, unrelenting against Steve’ back. He thrust one of his thick thighs between Steve’s slender ones, and swept his hand down over Steve’s fly, palming him.

Oh my god…how different it felt when it was someone else…

Steve didn’t realize how hard he was, or how close until he felt Bucky’s hand pressing down like that, pulling him into a wall of warm muscle and hot tension. He also didn’t realize he was crying out until he felt a few of Bucky’s fingers cover his mouth loosely as the whisper of, _‘neighbors honey, shh. shoulda known you’d be a screamer,’_ torched his ear.

And if there was still room for a coherent thought left in his mind, he might’ve supposed that Bucky would take the lead here, knowing more and feeling it longer.

But he didn’t. Steve just felt him clamp down harder in front and back and move in tandem, echoing the pace Steve’s eager body was setting.

Letting it take control for both of them.

And that, more than anything else brought him over the brink faster than he expected. Bucky was right there still with soft endearments nestling in his ear and softer fingers milking every last jolt of his climax free.

Finally too sensitive and still gasping, Steve caught Bucky’s hand in both of his, pulled it to his chest and just held on as he came down. He was dimly aware of Bucky nuzzling the back of his neck and playfully lipping at the stretched collar of his T-shirt.

Knowing him, he was probably still sweet-talking, but Steve felt a bit too dazed at the moment to analyze anything but his scrambled senses. Finally, he felt his addled brain start to clear, but it took the rest of him a few more moments to catch up. After all, Steve had problems controlling his breath even at the best of times, and given the paces Bucky had put his body through he wasn’t doing too well now. Finally getting his lungs to mind themselves, he rolled over to face…what? His best friend? His lover?

His Bucky.

Who was flat on his back chuckling softly at him.

“’Smatter there, Stevie? Cat got your tongue? Never knew you to be speechless. Not for long, anyhow.”

“Shut up, jerk. ‘S your fault.”

“That it is. I accept full responsibility.” Bucky cat-stretched, long arms reaching up over his head and arching until he settled with an elbow tucked under his head and sighing happily. The curl of the grin Steve always wanted to draw he now wanted to kiss, but even after everything, wasn’t certain it was allowed. So he traced it with a gentle fingertip instead.

Bucky closed his eyes and smiled before he caught Steve’s curious finger in his slightly crooked teeth. Steve squeaked at the sting, then exhaled breathily as Bucky grasped his hand and soothed the bite with a long, slow suck. “Good huh,” he asked, opening eyes still more black than blue. He did it again, tongue rippling up the length. “Bet you’d like this a lot better if I did it someplace else.”

“Bucky,” Steve whispered, both shocked and intrigued in equal measure.

“What?”

“I can’t, like _I_ _can’t_ again, not so soon…and anyhow you didn’t even…”

And now the sweet, warm grin Steve had been bathing in turned scorching. “Oh, haven’t I? See for yourself.” With those words he interlaced their fingers and ran their hands down his body.

And then under his buckle and into his pants.

Steve gasped. Bucky was soaked. And hard. Again? Still?!

“What are you even…oh god, Buck.” Steve curled his fingers around him, letting the slide of his palm be eased by the still-warm spend.

Bucky let his head fall back and his jaw went lax. His eyes closed as he whispered _“Yes, fucking **yes** …waited so long for this. Don’t stop.”_

And it didn’t take much; not at all – which was good because the position was a little awkward and uncomfortable, but especially since Steve had never done this for anyone but himself. Watching Bucky arch and hiss under the work of his hand was sending Steve back to the stratosphere. He felt lightheaded and for once it had nothing to do with truculent lungs restricting his lack of actual air. It was all Bucky; breathless and writhing and giving himself over so prettily that Steve felt dizzy just looking. Dizzy with his reactions. With HIM.

As it was ending Bucky rolled to his side, tucking his face into Steve’s chest and riding out the waves of his orgasm with fingers anchored in the thin fabric of Steve’s T-shirt.

And he stayed there, after. Just holding on like **he** was the small and fragile one of the two of them.

Feeling protective, Steve kissed the top of his head as he twisted his wrist to wipe off on the inside of Bucky’s boxers before pulling him closer. Bucky just hummed softly and settled in on top of Steve’s heart like he’d always belonged right there.

And maybe he had.

They were quiet for a few minutes together, Steve processing and apparently Bucky as well. He pulled back a little to look up and Steve already missed the weight of him.

“Gonna come back and do you proper. Set us up right. Out and everyone who don’t like it be damned or just keep house like two bachelors that never settled down. Anything. You want that? Huh? Wait for me and then after we can…? Give me something to come back for?” Bucky’s expression was wide open, eyes bright and willing with all the earlier traces of doubt and fear gone like they’d never been.

And Steve felt something in himself want to freeze this moment, freeze it forever for both of them. Freeze them until time would allow this fragile new thing they were building to grow without risk from others who might be unkind. Or dangerous. Knowing that he couldn’t just fueled his resolve to protect Bucky for once.

So Steve could not bear to tell him the truth, frightened that this would be the last time he’d see this bright and happy boy content in his arms. Not wanting to chance putting Bucky off again before he left. After all, it was their last night.

“Yeah, Bucky. Yeah of course I’ll wait. I’ll be right here” he said.

Knowing he would not.


End file.
